The Traveler
by Lucilla
Summary: While being on the run, Nick has a fateful encounter


The Traveler (inspired by the song by Chris De Burgh)  
  
by Luc 2002  
  
England 1799  
  
The horse thundered through the night. And not for the first time its rider   
  
wondered why he didn't choose to fly.  
  
You know perfectly well why not, Nicholas, the man chided himself as he   
  
pressed his spurs a little deeper into the horse's flanks.  
  
He would have to feed much more often if he spent a lot of energy on   
  
flying. And if there was one thing he didn't need it was the additional   
  
trouble of hiding corpses. That would be costing him way too much time and   
  
time he didn't have.  
  
He had been on the run for two weeks, zigzagging across the country, trying   
  
to hide his traces as best as he could. And that included not leaving   
  
drained bodies in his wake.  
  
Instead he had turned to animal blood. A sad substitute to the rich essence   
  
of human blood but it fulfilled its purpose of keeping him alive.  
  
Thinking about it, he felt a slight pang of hunger. He bridled the horse.   
  
The large animal stood panting, froth dripping from its muzzle. He had been   
  
going at a fierce pace all night and he knew the animal wouldn't be able   
  
to keep it up much longer without rest. Besides, sunrise was only about two   
  
hours away. Time to find shelter for the day.  
  
A little further up the road he spotted a ramshackle wooden shed. Probably   
  
a stable. Good, if he was lucky he would find nourishment for both himself   
  
and the horse as well as a dark corner to sleep through the day.  
  
A couple of minutes later he dismounted and led the steed around to the   
  
rear of the building. It was indeed a stable and luckily for him it didn't   
  
seem to have any windows. He tied the horse to one of the posts of the   
  
broken fence that surrounded the hut. He cautiously approached the door and   
  
listened.  
  
There was no obvious sign of life. Certainly not of human life. There were   
  
a couple of heartbeats audible from inside but from their pitch and   
  
frequency he knew they belonged to animals, very small animals. He winced.   
  
So it seemed his horse would be the luckier of the two tonight. He pried   
  
the door open and looked inside. With his perfect vampire eyes he could see   
  
that the place held indeed neither danger nor a noticeable source of   
  
sustenance. He sighed. As he had feared, the tiny heartbeats stemmed from   
  
rats which scurried all around the place. He absolutely detested drinking   
  
rat's blood. After all he wasn't carouche.  
  
He went back to his steed, untied the reins and led the tired animal   
  
inside. There he relieved the animal of the saddle and started to wipe it   
  
down with a handful of straw. The smell inside the stable left him in no   
  
doubt that not long before it had housed a flock of sheep. He shrugged his   
  
shoulders and patted the horse's neck. "Well, Merlin, sheep wouldn't have   
  
been of use anyway." Sheep's blood was the only one hazardous for his kind.  
  
Agnus Dei.*  
  
"I guess I'll have to take advantage of you again, old boy." The horse   
  
raised its head and looked at him with soft brown eyes that seemed to   
  
understand that its master wouldn't do it any serious harm. Nicholas   
  
started to murmur soothingly and the animal kept perfectly still. It only   
  
flinched a bit as the vampire sank his fangs into the throbbing vein of its   
  
neck. Nicholas drew deeply of the crimson liquid and felt his strength   
  
return. After a few moments he withdrew his teeth. He couldn't take too   
  
much if he wanted Merlin to remain strong enough for the rest of the   
  
journey even though the horse could easily spare a pint or two. Tomorrow he   
  
would have to find another source to satisfy his hunger.  
  
He searched the stable and found some turnips and carrots. He collected a   
  
few and put them down in front of Merlin. "Here, enjoy." He patted the   
  
horse's hind as he turned to prepare the stable for a good day's sleep.  
  
In one corner there were several bales of fresh straw and a large pile of   
  
hay. He stacked the straw so as to form a little wall that would shield him   
  
from the light, should anyone open the door. Then he crawled deep into the   
  
hay until he was completely covered. It was one of the advantages of his   
  
vampire nature that he needn't breathe.  
  
***  
  
He awoke when something walked over his face. His eyes flew open and he   
  
stared into a pair of black, beady ones. With a sound of disgust he jumped   
  
up and the rat vanished, squealing in protest. He stretched and yawned. His   
  
internal clock told him that the sun had just begun its slow descent into   
  
evening.   
  
Nicholas combed his fingers through his unruly long hair disentangling   
  
stalks of straw and hay before tying it up again. After that he went over   
  
to Merlin who chewed contentedly on some of the leftover turnips from the   
  
night before. Nicholas examined the tiny wounds his bite had caused. They   
  
had already started to heal.  
  
He saddled the steed and as soon as the sun had vanished behind the horizon   
  
he mounted and forced Merlin to the same fierce pace as the nights before.  
  
***  
  
About three hours later he reached a little country inn that lay by the   
  
wayside. He felt hungry again. The little blood he'd taken from Merlin   
  
hadn't lasted long. They would certainly have cows there, he thought.   
  
Silently he dismounted, tied Merlin to the fence and walked over to the   
  
stable. Yes, two cows and a bull were tied to the wall.  
  
Nicholas opted for one of the cows. The bull's blood would taste better, if   
  
only slightly, but the cows could be soothed more easily. This time he took   
  
a considerable larger amount. The animal would be a little weak for two or   
  
three days but it would survive. With animals Nicholas didn't have any   
  
difficulties to stop in time. But then, drinking from a human source was so   
  
much more than just feeding.  
  
He wiped his mouth and checked his clothing for any visible traces of   
  
blood. Then he returned to Merlin and led him to the stable. This time he   
  
made no attempt at concealing his arrival. "Hey, ho, landlord," he called.   
  
A heavy middle-aged man appeared in the door.  
  
"That would be me, sir."  
  
"Is it possible to have a hot bath for me and some water and oats for the   
  
horse?"  
  
"O'course, sir. This way." The landlord tried to take Merlin's reins from   
  
Nicholas's hands. He saw the greedy look in the man's eyes and shook his   
  
head. "One o' the stable hands can take care o' the horse for you, sir."   
  
"No, I'd rather do it myself, just get that bath ready, will you?"  
  
The landlord shot an unfriendly glance back at him and Nicholas knew he had   
  
to be careful, that one wasn't to be trusted.  
  
"Old boy, I think we better leave here as soon as possible." The horse only   
  
snorted.   
  
He took care of Merlin and then wearily walked over to the bathhouse where   
  
two young women were preparing a large tub of hot water for him. They were   
  
only scantily dressed in the steaming heat of the room, and their flushed   
  
faces and ruddy cheeks locked very appetizing to Nicholas. "I wouldn't mind   
  
sharing the tub with one of these," he thought, a wicked smile playing   
  
around his mouth. "Alas, no time for play tonight." With a little sigh he   
  
shed his clothes and stepped into the bath.  
  
He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the hot water caressing his body. He   
  
turned to call to the wench for more hot water when all of a sudden a   
  
blinding bolt of pain exploded behind his eyes. Then everything went black.   
  
Slowly his body slid back into the water and submerged.  
  
***  
  
The landlord threw the large wooden club aside and leaned over the tub. The   
  
water was already turning red. The blow had surely killed the stranger, but   
  
he had never been one to take risks. He reached into his pocket and pulled   
  
out a razor. With one hand he grabbed the wet hair of the submerged form   
  
and pulled the head out of the water. His blow had caused a deep gash in   
  
the other one's scalp but the bleeding had already stopped. Better make   
  
sure, he thought. With one fluid motion he drew the razor across the blond   
  
man's throat and, a satisfied smile on his lips, watched as the water   
  
turned a deep crimson.  
  
He gave the tub a shove and it tipped over releasing both the stained water   
  
and the limp form of the stranger to the ground. The water would seep into   
  
the ground and by morning not a trace would be left. The naked corpse was   
  
an entirely different matter, though.  
  
He picked up an old horseblanket from a pile of dirty laundry in a corner.  
  
He rolled the body onto the blanket, wrapped him up and tied the bundle   
  
with some rope. Then he hauled it on his shoulder and made for the woods.  
  
Some minutes later he'd reached his destination: the bank of a fast-running   
  
stream. He flung the corpse into the water and watched as it relieved him   
  
of the remainder of his crime. Whistling softly he walked back to the   
  
stable. The large black steed was a magnificent animal. It had truly been   
  
worth the effort.  
  
***  
  
Something hit him, something sharp and hard. He opened his eyes but around   
  
him was only darkness. He tried to move but he couldn't. Was he tied up?   
  
God, he was so cold. Why did he feel so awfully cold?  
  
Nicholas again drifted off into blessed oblivion. He was barely aware that   
  
two strong hands grabbed him and he was cradled in someone's arms and flown   
  
to safety from the approaching dawn.  
  
***  
  
A few miles down the road a carriage was making steady progress towards the   
  
inn. Inside were two figures. One a tall and imposing man, the other a very   
  
beautiful lady. The driver had at once been smitten by her radiant   
  
appearance but his instinct told him that he shouldn't anger the man.  
  
He pulled the reins and the carriage came to a halt. "We're near a tavern,   
  
sir," he called to the two inhabitants of the compartment below, " Would   
  
you like to get some rest?"  
  
The deep voice of the man replied angrily: "No, keep driving. I'm not   
  
paying for stops."  
  
Then he heard the lady whisper urgently to her companion, but no matter how   
  
hard he tried, he couldn't make out the words.  
  
Janette leaned over to Lacroix. "Maybe they know something about Nicolas in   
  
that tavern. I can sense that he isn't far away. Please, Lacroix."  
  
Lacroix nodded gravely. Nicholas wasn't far, he sensed him too. Silently he   
  
congratulated himself once more on the wise decision not to teach his son   
  
how to shut off the link completely. He was just about to call to the   
  
driver to go on, when he felt agony coming from Nicholas's link. Janette   
  
was feeling it too. A harsh gasp had escaped her lips. "Oh, my, Nicolas!   
  
Lacroix, something terrible must have happened to him. We must find him   
  
now!" Lacroix pried her fingers from the lapels of his morning coat. He   
  
rapped his walking stick on the roof of the carriage. The coachman took the   
  
hint and drove the horses to a steady gallop.   
  
With an infernal clatter the coach stopped in front of the inn that lay   
  
dark and silent. Stealthily the landlord opened the door. Sensing a good   
  
deal could be made with someone traveling in style, he hurried over to   
  
them.  
  
The cold stare of the gentleman peering out of the coach's window made him   
  
shiver. "Tell me, good man, have you , by any chance, seen a traveler   
  
tonight. A tall blond man, with a black steed?"  
  
The landlord gulped. He hurriedly answered, almost choking on the words:   
  
"Nay, sir. There's no one been coming along looking like this."  
  
The gentleman disappeared into the darkness of the coach again.   
  
Janette leaned over to Lacroix. "He's lying, mon père, will you accept   
  
this?" she hissed, her voice too low for human ears. Lacroix responded   
  
equally low, "I know he's lying. Nicholas has been here and this man did   
  
something to him. I could smell Nicholas's blood on his clothing."   
  
Lacroix beckoned to the driver, who instantly climbed down, lowered the   
  
stairs and opened the door. Lacroix got out but motioned to Janette to wait   
  
for him in the coach.  
  
He approached the landlord and with a velvety voice asked him for some   
  
refreshments. The landlord, obviously relieved, hurried away. Lacroix   
  
slowly sauntered over to the rear of the building. The smell of Nicholas's   
  
blood hung heavy in the air. He traced the source of the smell when he saw   
  
the wet stain on the floor of the bathhouse. For a tiny moment his eyes   
  
turned a fiery red, but he regained his control at once.  
  
"Sir? Where are you?" The landlord's voice sounded frightened.  
  
There he came, shuffling around the corner. "Ah, here you are. I've given   
  
the wine to your dr…" The rest of the sentence was cut off by Lacroix's   
  
hand on his neck. Only a choked gurgle escaped the man's throat.  
  
"Where is he and what have you done with him?" The stranger's voice was a   
  
bestial growl and his eyes, my God, his eyes…  
  
The man squealed in terror. But then his body relaxed in the death grip and   
  
his blood pounded in his ears. "You will tell me everything…", the voice   
  
demanded and he felt compelled to answer.  
  
When the man had told him everything, Lacroix told him to forget he'd ever   
  
seen two strangers in a coach. Then he let go of him.  
  
***  
  
Lacroix had remained silent for a couple of moments after he'd climbed back   
  
into the coach.   
  
Janette leaned close, "Why didn't you kill him, Lacroix? If he's hurt,   
  
Nicholas, I'll tear him to shreds myself!" Lacroix's iron grip kept her   
  
from going after the landlord. He looked at her with that stoic expression   
  
that could drive her to the brink of madness. "You know perfectly well, ma   
  
fille, that Nicholas has suffered no permanent damage else we would have   
  
sensed it. Therefore I'll leave the revenge to him." Then he tapped the   
  
roof of the carriage with his cane and the coach slowly disappeared down   
  
the road. After a few minutes, Lacroix signaled the driver to stop. He got   
  
out of the coach and told the man to wait. Then he vanished into the dark   
  
shadows of the forest. He couldn't take to the air, they were still too   
  
close to human habitation, so he let his senses guide him through the   
  
undergrowth. The signals from Nicholas were weak but steady, he couldn't be   
  
far. Silently he called out for his son. There, a soft moan. He could just   
  
make out a pale shape half emerged in the icy waters of the river. Lacroix   
  
knelt down beside Nicholas and almost tenderly wiped the wet hair from his   
  
eyes. "My, my, Nicholas, why are you so apt at getting yourself into   
  
trouble?" He sighed, cradled his son in his arms and slowly took to the   
  
air. He landed on a small clearing and walked the rest of the way back to   
  
the waiting carriage. Janette flung the door open and a horrified gasp   
  
escaped her. "Nicolas, mon cœur, what has this brute done to you?" She   
  
helped Lacroix lay Nicholas down on the seat, then wrapped her long cloak   
  
around him. Lacroix signaled and the coach took off at neck-breaking speed.  
  
***  
  
Five years later  
  
The dark-clad man slowly approached the door of the tavern, drawing his hat   
  
a little deeper over his eyes. Yes, this was the same place, nothing had   
  
changed. He could hear laughter coming from the inside. A merry crowd was   
  
spending their week's pay on ale and cheap wine.   
  
He opened the door and entered. Almost immediately a hushed silence fell   
  
over the room. Eyes turned his direction and some of the guests started   
  
whispering with one another. A stranger was always dangerous, especially   
  
someone looking like this. The man was tall and in his early thirties. His   
  
hat was drawn deep into his face so it remained hidden. He sat down at a   
  
table in the darkest corner of the room and motioned to one of the bar   
  
maids. "Bring me a bottle of Whisky and tell the landlord to join me. I'd   
  
like to have a talk with him." The maid made no attempt to argue and   
  
hurried of to notify her master.  
  
Shortly after the landlord brought the bottle over to the table and poured   
  
the man a glass. He was in no mood to talk and he didn't have the faintest   
  
idea what the stranger wanted from him. But then, maybe there was some   
  
money to be earned here. He slid onto the wooden bench in front of the   
  
stranger. The man was turning the filled glass between his fingers, never   
  
making an attempt to raise it to his lips. He still kept his head low so   
  
the landlord could practically only see his hat.  
  
"Don't you like the Whisky, sir? I could send for another bottle." "No!"   
  
The stranger's voice was a low whisper. Then he slowly looked up and stared   
  
deep into the landlord's eyes. The man's hair stood on end. He'd seen those   
  
eyes before, although then they weren't filled with the burning hatred he   
  
could see in them now. "I see you remember me," the stranger said. "Why   
  
don't we go outside and have a little chat about the past?" The piercing   
  
stare made the landlord squirm. He gulped hard and nodded. The dark figure   
  
stood up and left the bar. The landlord wiped a shaky hand across his   
  
forehead. How was that possible? That man couldn't be alive, he'd slashed   
  
his throat with his own hands, felt the blood gushing over them.   
  
He motioned to one of the girls. "Tell Dickon to saddle the Black for me. I   
  
need to go out." The girl hurried off, a puzzled look on her face. The   
  
master never left this late at night. But who was she to question him.  
  
A couple of minutes later the large black steed stood ready in front of the   
  
stable. He mounted it and turned it towards the hills. There, a short   
  
distance in front of him, he could make out the dark silhouette of the   
  
stranger on his horse. There would be no escape, he knew that. This time   
  
the past had come back to haunt him.  
  
Nicholas watched the landlord ride towards him on his horse. How long had   
  
he waited for this moment? Five long years. Years he had to spend traveling   
  
with Lacroix, suffering the taunts for his foolishness and the constant   
  
cruelties because he had tried to run away from them again.  
  
Lacroix knew perfectly well how to fuel that longing for revenge in him.  
  
Now that moment was here at last. An evil smile crossed his features.  
  
This would be so good.   
  
His eyes turned to flaming red and he felt his fangs descend. In a whoosh   
  
of cold air he pulled the other from Merlin's back, roughly tilted his head   
  
to the side and sank his teeth into the screaming man's neck. He took his   
  
time, this was going to be no quick kill. He wanted the man to suffer,   
  
wanted him to feel his life being drained away slowly. He reveled in the   
  
horror he tasted in the other's blood. Then the form in his arms went limp   
  
and he let it slide to the ground. The last shiver of excitement subsided   
  
and his eyes changed back to their normal blue.   
  
He took up Merlin's reins, mounted the steed and turned towards the woods.   
  
He had reclaimed what was his and he had had his vengeance. He nodded to   
  
the other dark figure waiting for him in the shadows of the forest.  
  
The older man nodded back and smiled.   
  
Fin  
  
* Lamb of God (see 'Sons of Belial')  
  
The Traveler  
  
In from the coast   
  
Riding like the wind and racing the moon  
  
Shadows on the road  
  
Dancing and waving like a crazy fool  
  
A horseman is coming  
  
Death in his heart for a rendezvous  
  
And where the traveler goes  
  
Nobody knows  
  
A candle in the night  
  
Fear on every face when he goes inside  
  
Get back from the bar  
  
A stranger in town is a dangerous sight  
  
"Bring a bottle of Whisky, landlord, I wanna talk for a while."  
  
And where the traveler goes  
  
A cold wind blows  
  
There is something in his eyes  
  
Something in his hands  
  
You can almost smell his revenge  
  
And whoever he is after  
  
It will be disaster  
  
This man is gonna take him to the very end  
  
Well, the landlord he trembled  
  
Staring at a face he'd seen somewhere before  
  
Suddenly remembered  
  
A killing, yes, a murder many years before  
  
He said to a boy:  
  
"Saddle me the Black, I'll meet you down below.  
  
With this man I must talk, with this traveler I'll go  
  
There is something in his eyes  
  
Something in his hands  
  
I can almost smell his revenge  
  
And it's me that he's after  
  
It will be disaster  
  
This man is gonna take me to the very end."  
  
And they were never seen again… 


End file.
